


Been Around A Few Times, All That's Missing Is You

by afteriwake



Series: Sherlolly Spring Fling - April/May 2018 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Arguing, Award Nominees, Congratulations Are In Order, Developing Relationship, Dressing Room Sex, Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Grammy Awards, Injured Molly, John is a Sound Technician, Mary is a Makeup Artist, Mirror Sex, Mirrors, Molly is a Singer, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Semi-Public Sex, Sherlock is a Manager, Vaginal Fingering, Vocal Chord Injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 20:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14173143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Molly Hooper is a rising star in the musical crowd, having gotten Grammy nominations for music on her debut album. But Molly is keeping what could be a career-ending secret...and perhaps relationship ending as well.





	Been Around A Few Times, All That's Missing Is You

**Author's Note:**

> And another fic towards another milestone! This prompt was picked by **come2myrescue** and was originally given to me anonymously (" _Au nsfw prompt? Molly is a singer Sherlock is her manager, they are arguing about how Molly wants to finish her tour but Sherlock wants to cancel her show that night as her throat is not doing well._ ") I tweaked it slightly to stretch it out into a longer story.

“A fucking Grammy!”

Molly Hooper was startled slightly as her sound technician burst into her dressing room. She wasn’t undressed, wearing a silk dressing gown that she wouldn’t admit she’d filched from her manager, but you could tell it was originally a man’s dressing gown and had been hemmed to fit her more petite and much shorter frame. Where he was, she didn’t know, but she composed herself quickly and smiled at John Watson before picking up the tea with honey and lemon in it. “Yes, I heard on the telly.”

“Sherlock’s got to be thrilled. You, getting nominated for a Grammy!” Then he frowned. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Haven’t a clue,” she said before sipping her tea. Oh, the warmth and the bitterness of the lemon mellowed by the sweetness of the honey felt like heaven. She’d noticed her throat hurt more but she just chalked it up to singing for larger crowds more often since her “official” debut had taken off.

That hadn’t counted the five EPs she’d put out already and the number of singles that had been featured on websites for her all the way back when MySpace was a thing.

No, it had been being asked to sing a duet with Adele that had propelled her into the stratosphere. The other woman literally couldn’t sing her praises high enough, and it was just the type of superstar push she needed to go from a little known English rose to a full tilt…

Well, not a diva. She would never have the voice of Adele or Beyonce, nor the mentality of some less proper women. She was in no way comparable to anyone on either side of the spectrum, thank God.

But she curled the mug tighter and smiled into her drink as John chattered on about performances Stateside and television appearances and the like. To be honest, part of her longed to go back to the cafes and coffee houses she had sung at before, but it was nice, this recognition from her peers. Perhaps this time a woman might even do well if the sexism in the industry was less rampant than it had been in years before.

“Songwriting!” Mary Watson, John’s wife and her hair/makeup/wardrobe co-ordinater cum confidant said. “You have _two_ nominations!”

Molly’s eyes widened. Really? Two nomination and one of them wasn’t even for singing? She truly felt blessed.

“We should go out and light up the town,” John said.

“Oh, hush. You won’t stay awake past nine,” Mary teased, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“I have no idea,” Molly said again before having more tea.

“I’ll go have a look and drag my louder than loud husband along to give you some peace and quiet,” Mary said with a knowing smile, moving her hand from John’s mouth to the shoulder of his jumper and tugging. Talking animatedly amongst themselves they left, and Molly enjoyed the silence once again.

She crossed her legs and felt the silk brush over her thighs, a warm shiver running through her as she remembered the silk tie being woven around her wrists as they were tied to the headboard above her head, and then the blindfold being slipped over her eyes and Sherlock entering her slowly, rocking back and forth into her as the bed creaked under their weight. She moved a hand away from her mug to cress her suddenly aching breast, to press the silk against it, trying to remember the feel of Sherlock’s lips sucking and nibbling there.

How they had gone from manager/managee to lovers she still wasn’t entirely sure, but she wouldn’t give him up for all the fame and fortune in the world. And she knew without words being shared if this all went away tomorrow, he’d still be by her side until the end.

And she hated the niggling thought in the back of her head that perhaps she was pushing too hard, forcing herself to do too much.

The door opened again and she turned to see Sherlock there with a dozen long-stemmed red roses. She smiled and got out of the chair to take them. “They aren’t yellow,” she said, sniffing them. Oh, they smelled exquisite. She went and set them on the counter in front of the mirror, and then felt two arms slip around her and a chin rest on her shoulder.

“While our relationship is being kept quiet, there is a change from friends to more,” he said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone once he lifted her chin up. “And red roses are given to lovers.”

“So that means I get more nights like last night?” she asked.

He let his hand slip inside the robe, palming her left breast and then teasing the nipple until it hardened. She moaned softly, tilting her head back against him. “You can have all the nights like that you want,” he said.

“And afternoons? And mornings?” she asked, pressing her arse against the bulge in his trousers that was pressing into her back.

“So long as you’re quiet, you can have me now, as I’ve already locked the door.” He moved his hand down to the belt around her waist and undid it with nimble fingers, watching the dressing gown open and flashed of breasts and stomach and short, curly brown hair trimmed neatly were shown in the mirror. He slid his fingers lower, tangling them in the hairs and beginning to tease her clit. “Sing for me, Molly,” he said, teasing her with his long fingers as they watched their reflections in the mirror.

She hummed low in her throat as he brought her closer to a lovely orgasm, just as he always did. It was obvious he could play her just as well as he played the violin he kept with him in the van they traveled in, and when the hum was close to a moan he turned her head and captured the sound with his mouth, pressing his lips to hers. There was more to come, she knew that, but this...this was a lovely start.


End file.
